


Random Drabbles: Youkai in Star Wars

by dogmatix, norcumi



Series: Random Drabbles [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, GFY, Gen, Poor Obi-Wan, Transformation, Xeno, Youkai, obi-wan is an overachiever, youkai!Anakin, youkai!Obi, youkai!clones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-09 07:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7791919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogmatix/pseuds/dogmatix, https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan is having a really bad day. Anakin likes his old Master's new look though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was totally inspired by an awesome [dragon transformation pic](http://dogmatix.tumblr.com/post/148916215253/sketchygoat-not-always-pleasant), with more inspiration from both [Saiyuki](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saiyuki_\(manga\)) and [Digital Devil Saga](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shin_Megami_Tensei:_Digital_Devil_Saga), as well as using the bulk of the design I have for an OC for an original work.

"So the good news is,” Obi-Wan grit out past the pain.

"How the hell is there ‘ _good news_ ’?” Anakin’s voice was pitched higher than usual, not that Obi-Wan blamed him. Their situation had just gone from bad to worse, after all.

“The good news is,” Obi-Wan repeated, “that my arm will grow back.”

“Wizard,” Anakin said, going heavy on the sarcasm. “And what’s the _bad_ news, apart from being crash-landed on a planet on the ass end of nowhere with Grievous on our tail, giant damn predators all over the place that are invisible in the Force and who like to eat Jedi, and no karking backup?”

“We only have about five minutes before I’m incapacitated by the change.”

A mechanical voice sounded behind Obi-Wan. “Hey-zzk!”

Anakin disengaged his lightsaber as the B1 droid’s head clattered to the ground, its body wobbling before falling over on top of it.

“We have to move,” Anakin said.  The corpse of the whatever-the-hell it was and the slagged B1 would scream Jedi to Grievous.  Obi-Wan only grunted, sweat already starting to bead on his forehead.  Anakin forced himself not to touch the metal bracelet on his wrist. He’d never seen Obi-Wan’s second form, though he knew his Master was a youkai, just like him. 

Out on Tatooine, Anakin and his mom had had their limiters locked onto them, to keep them human. To keep them harmless.  Anakin had always dreamed of tearing off his limiter, but even after he’d been freed, he’d still needed to wear one, at least in public.  It wasn’t ‘polite’ to be a youkai, after all. All the different sects and species in the Republic, and only Sith and Massassi were more hated and feared than an open youkai.

Obi-Wan had the bleeding stump of his arm pressed tight to his chest, his other arm slung over Anakin’s shoulder as they scuttled deeper into the forest. Obi-Wan was doing his best, but Anakin had the sinking feeling that Obi-Wan had been right about being incapacitated, and the blood-loss wasn't helping.  Obi-Wan’s limiter had been the discreet ring on the ring-finger of his now absent hand. Removing a limiter without warning made the change hit harder, and even an experienced Jedi Master could only keep it at bay for so long. Usually it didn’t incapacitate someone though.  What the hells did Obi-Wan turn into?

“A cave!” Anakin said, spotting a small stream coming from a hole large enough to admit a person. There was a gentle slope rising up  where they were, almost enough to be a hill, and with any luck there’d be some form of cave system under there.

“No,” Obi-Wan said, voice deep and starting to slur. “no cave.”

“Why not?” Anakin asked, annoyed.

“Won’- won’t fit. Ngh!” Obi-Wan hunched over in pain, and Anakin had the startling realization that even hunched over, Obi-Wan was now of a height with him. Kriff.

“This way,” Anakin said, picking a direction at random and dragging Obi-Wan along. He found a large huddle of pushes and pressed through the leaves to find a passable open area under their cover. He lowered Obi-Wan to the ground.

With fingers already turned wicked with long claws, Obi-Wan tugged at his clothing, obviously trying to get out of them.  The stump of his left arm had already stopped bleeding, and bare muscle peeked up above ragged skin.  Anakin glanced out towards the forest, then helped Obi-Wan get his tunics and pants off.  The boots were already bulging oddly, and when Anakin got them off, Obi-Wan’s feet were more paw-like than human. Obi-Wan let out a strangled whine and curled up, something in the vicinity of his legs giving an audible crunch.

Out beyond the thin protection of the bushes, a droid spoke. Anakin swore silently, then cast a look at Obi-Wan. No help there. The droids were getting closer. Anakin slipped back out of their cover and dispatched the four droids as quickly as he could, making sure to toss the remains as far as he could, for a bit of extra safety. No need to advertise their exact location.

#Anakin, don’t be afraid,# Obi-Wan’s voice spoke in Anakin’s head.

“Are you done with the change?” Anakin asked, even though the answer was pretty self-evident.

#Yes.#

“So, come one, let’s move. We can’t stay here all day.”

Something stepped out of the bushes, and Anakin’s heart sped up. Almost a meter taller than Anakin, Obi-Wan stood on digitrade legs.  Still bipedal, but he had an extra set of arms.  Three tails - the central one thicker and longer than the two side ones - curled behind him.  The new set of arms, or maybe they were his original arms, had leathery wings stretching from the elongated, delicate fingers that nonetheless ended in wicked claws. A smaller set of arms were set below the first pair, more human-like but still with claws.  The face was smooth and blank except for the gash of a mouth, triangular teeth barely visible. There were no eyes, just crown of smooth horns rising from the top edge of the face, but the head still turned towards Anakin unerringly.

Anakin swallowed hard. Obi-Wan was beautiful.

Off in the distance came the sound of droids, and Anakin’s expression turned predatory.  Grievous was _dead_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's a quick, rough sketch of Obi's youkai form, with Anakin by his side for size comparison.
> 
>  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place after the Umbara arc with Krell. 
> 
> Thanks go to @aniseandspearmint for discussion and ideas

“Sir, it was our actions, and it’s our responsibility-“

“Like hell it is,” Anakin snarled, still pacing back and forth in front of his Commander.  Rex stood, eyes downcast, shame in every line of his face. Behind and to his sides stood Fives and Jesse.  Jesse sported a silver cuff on his ear, identical to the one Rex now wore.  Fives’s slit-pupiled eyes and the pointed tips of his ears gave the situation away. Either they hadn’t been able to scrounge up a limiter for him, or Fives had refused to wear one.

“I’m the General of the 501st. You’re _my_ troops. That makes this _my_ responsibility.”

“Sir-“

“You’re dismissed, Rex,” Anakin said, anger still burning in his voice. Rex’s shoulders pulled in tighter, and Anakin paused. “Go tend to the men,” he said, voice softening. “I’ll come by later.”

The three clones left, Rex and Jesse subdued, Fives with the electric indignation of someone who knows they’re in the right.

“You don’t want Rex here for the meeting?” Obi-Wan asked.  Anakin thought he detected the same kind of shame from Obi-Wan as from Rex.  The kind of communal shame that most youkai showed when their nature came to light, as if they had any control over it, or as if it were wrong to simply exist. It drove Anakin up the wall.

“You think they’d listen to a single word he said? No, Obi-Wan, I’m not going to put Rex in front of people he should be able to trust and respect just so that they can break him down.”

“The Jedi Council wouldn’t-“

“I know damn well they do it to me. Don’t expect me to believe they don’t do it to you too,” Anakin snapped. “I was there for the debrief after-“

“Yes thank you,” Obi-Wan interrupted curtly, not looking at Anakin.

They both fell silent, letting the atmosphere start to relax. The holocom beeped.  Drawing his shoulders back, Anakin clicked it on. What followed was a grueling interview of recent events, with Anakin giving the facts as Rex had relayed them to him, and Obi-Wan offering corroboration and an outside perspective.

At the end of it, Mace Windu sat back in his seat, glaring at them over steepled fingers. “It’s true then. Your troops hunted and killed Master Krell.”

“Krell had Fallen,” Anakin said through clenched teeth. “You only have to look at the casualty and fatality lists to see he wasn’t interested in winning, only in decimating my troops as much as possible.”

“Krell’s tactics are not the issue here,” Ki-Adi tried to smooth over. “It is a fact, though, that the 501st resorted to…improper tactics.”

Obi-Wan stepped forward, forstalling Anakin’s outburst.  “Whether Krell’s tactics were simply incompatible with Anakin’s doesn’t matter. It is a matter of record that Krell engineered a battle between the 501st and the 212th for no tactical purpose.  We have audio recording of Krell refusing to surrender quietly.  Krell is the one who chose to engage in open battle with the 501st.  He was also an experienced Force-user and warrior; taking him down with blasters alone would have resulted in a much larger number of fatalities.”

“And that justifies mobbing him and tearing him apart with teeth and claws, like animals?” Mace scowled.

“It must have been a very desperate battle.”  The unexpected voice of Plo Koon interrupted the budding argument. “Skywalker, how many troops did you lose?” Anakin rattled off the number, and Plo nodded. “I am sorry you lost so many.  Might I ask, why did your troops not simply allow Krell to flee?”

“Yeah, right to Dooku,” Anakin scoffed. “We have enough trouble with information leaks. Letting a General who knows all our tactics and secrets go on his merry way to the Seps? Wasn’t gonna happen.”

Ki-Adi frowned. “And there was no way to simply subdue him?”

“Taking someone alive is always more difficult than killing them,” Obi-Wan said.  “As Jedi, it is our duty to attempt to take someone alive. Our troops do not have that training. They handled the situation to the best of their ability, and I trust Captain Rex’s assessment of events.”

Mace asked a few more questions, but the danger had passed, defused by Plo Koon’s careful phrasing. Anakin couldn’t seem to get his anger to simmer down, though, and was left staring balefully at the wall after the debrief ended.

“They ‘ll never trust us!” he burst out, frustrated.  “Even if we do all the right things, say all the right things, even if we’re _perfect_ , they’ll never trust us, because we’re _youkai_!”

“Plo helped us,” Obi-Wan pointed out, but even he sounded tired and dejected.

“Yeah, but Plo isn’t the one in charge of the Council, Mace is, and Mace hates my guts.”

“Mace is a Jedi, he doesn’t hate anyone’s-“

“They would _never_ have let me join if it weren’t for you and Qui-Gon,” Anakin said, arms almost flailing as he gesticulated. “You’re on the _Council_ and he still looks down on you! Why the _hell_ aren’t you angry?”

“Because I can only fight so many wars at once!” Obi-Wan burst out.

They glared at each other, but there was no real heat. They were both exhausted and heartsick at the events of the past few days.  Anakin sighed and turned, walking away.

“Anakin, where are you going?” Obi-Wan aksed.

“To be with my troops,” he said, unclipping his limiter from his wrist.

You can’t go out like that,” Obi-Wan objected half-heartedly.

Anakin paused at the door. “Do you know, the clones didn’t know about youkai when the war started? They just knew that some of them were ‘wrong,’ all because the Kaminoans decided to play god with Fett’s DNA and spice it up some.” He looked back at Obi-Wan, slit-pupiled eyes determined, and bared his fangs in a grin. “Half of my troops have manifested, and the others are living in fear of the day they do too.  Well, to hell with that. I’m not going to let them think I’m ashamed of them, or of what we are.”

Obi-Wan said nothing, only bowed his head in a nod. Anakin nodded back curtly, and walked out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the battle on Umbara, Anakin and Obi-Wan take time to talk to their troops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a commission-fic for the awesome @jeun-jie - a continuation of the Star Wars youkai ‘verse.
> 
> It was supposed to be 3K, but the plunnie kept going so it ended up being about 4.4K, so have some extra fic XD

The limiter clamped tightly on Rex’s ear was a welcome distraction from Fives’ stubborn glare; the ARC trooper’s eyes were slit-pupiled rather than round, and a little more gold than the standard brown found in most clones.

“I just don’t see why I should have to hide something that General Skywalker doesn’t care about,” Fives said angrily.

Rex bit back several different curses because Fives knew exactly why, but was choosing to be obtuse about it. “Dammit, Fives, it’s not just him we have to consider – even the general wears his limiter when other people are around.”

Fives crossed his arms, elongated fingernails-slash-claws clacking on his armor. The sharp sound grated along Rex’s spine and made Jesse squint just a little. “How many different times and ways do we have to prove we’re _people_?” Fives snarled, looking like he wanted to pace.

“To the Kaminoans, we’re not!” Rex snapped, tension drawing his shoulders back. “We are a _product_ and if you flaunt the fact that you’re _defective_ – ” He shook his head, aware again of the small metallic band pinching his ear. “Maybe nothing will happen. Or maybe the next time you go in for medical treatment in a Kaminoan facility, you won’t come back out again.”

Fives’ lips curled back to show his fangs. “Are you really saying you’re a product, not a _soldier_?” He stepped forward into Rex’s space, not hiding his disgust any more than his youkai side. “Why do you keep refusing to _fight_? We have a grand total of _five_ limiters for the entire 501st right now– ”

“We’ll be getting more,” Jesse said, trying to sound calm and probably hoping that if he took the rational approach, Fives and Rex would follow suit.

Fives just glared at him with a hint of a snarl. “And I’m not going to hide behind one while over two hundred of my brothers are in that kind of danger.”

Rex had to wrestle down the urge to yell at his friend, shame tangled up with frustration and fury. He was saved from whatever angry words would have escaped by the door opening. They pulled back from each other, going to attention as General Skywalker strode in. The general had no limiter on his wrist, a fact made obvious by the amber eyes, the pale blond hair, almost the same shade as Rex’s, and the claws tipping General Skywalker’s bare hands.  The general’s youkai-slit eyes skimmed over the three of them.

“Sir.” Rex hoped he sounded normal, forcing himself not to check to make sure he still had that damned cuff on his ear.

General Skywalker nodded to him. “It’s come to my attention that several of my men have been affected by what happened with Krell,” the general drawled, crossing his arms. He might as well have been shouting his solidarity with the men. “Since this is an unusual situation, I thought I’d clarify the official policy in regards to those effects.” Skywalker’s eyes flicked over to meet Jesse’s, then Fives’, before returning to Rex. “Whatever any trooper does to hide or not hide what happened, that’s their choice. It’s each person’s choice. It should _always_ be our own choice.”

Some of the tension bled from the room as Skywalker took another step forward, close enough to settle a hand on Rex’s shoulder. “I know a lot of beings – even Jedi – can be idiots about youkai, but I’m not going to punish anyone for whatever decisions they make about showing or hiding what they are.”

Rex nodded, not even trying to sort through the mix of emotions running through him. “Thank you, general. I’ll make sure the message gets passed on to everyone in the 501st.”

Skywalker smiled at him, a hint of fang visible, familiar from a dozen battles and more. “Thanks, Rex.” He half-turned, just far enough to put his other hand on Fives’ pauldron. “I think I’ll go mingle a little, talk to a few of the troops myself.”

Anakin took his time strolling through the barracks and meeting areas the 501st was occupying. Every time the men turned and saw he had no limiter, there was the same reaction: a startled twitch, followed by a touch of relief.

He took the time to ask and answer questions – all about deployment, or supplies, or maintenance, and nothing about Krell, or potential punishment.  The fact that he said nothing on those matters was answer enough.

He made sure to seek out the Force signatures of those he’d read in the reports as being most involved in the final battle. Most of them were trying to pretend their ears and eyes were normal, that they didn’t have claws.

He found Kix speaking with another one of the medics, both of them self-conscious, just like Rex, of the ear cuffs they now wore. Kix spotted him first, straightening to a bit of attention. Caff was shinier, not from the latest batch of additions, but with only one battle scuffing his armor prior to Umbara. No surprise, he came to full attention, his eyes wide as he took in Anakin’s display of his youkai side.

A little nod from Anakin had Caff relaxing some before Anakin looked back to Kix. “How are you two holding up?”

Caff’s smile was a shaky, false thing that tried even if it didn’t succeed. Kix had a strained grin. “Been better,” Kix admitted. His hand went up to his ear, diverting in an almost smooth movement to rub along his hair. “It’s…different, but we’ve been though worse in training.” He tried to give a casual shrug. “The reality’s usually…different from training, but as least we’re not jumping in blind.”

Caff looked more relaxed, something about Kix’s words seemed to resonate and calm him. He steadied even more as he and Kix gave Anakin a rundown of the injured, giving him more than the static numbers he’d had time to skim from a datapad before meeting with the Council.

Kix, being the efficient and terrifying medic that he was, even had data on some of the 212th. Some of the worst wounded in Krell’s ‘friendly fire’ massacre had succumbed to their wounds, but those who were youkai would all pull through, including Waxer.  It was a testament to the severity of Waxer’s wounds that he was still in bacta, but for youkai, ninety-nine percent of the time, anything that didn’t kill them right away wasn’t going to.

“Glad to hear it. Either of you have anything else?”

The medics exchanged a look. Kix stepped a bit closer, wearing that expression that was never good to see on a medical officer. “Sir. Have you talked to Dogma?”

Anakin bit back a frown. “I haven’t found him yet. Any idea where he might be?”

Kix nodded. “Last I know he was in the south Officers’ break room.” That meant the medics had been keeping an eye on Dogma, and wanted to make sure Anakin talked to him. Not the brightest portent.

It was a little strange, walking into the break room and finding it empty except for Dogma. He was at a small table, hunched over with his head in his hands, almost as if he were trying to block out the world – or hide the cuff on the one ear.

Anakin wasn’t trying to hide his presence, so it was a bad sign that he got halfway across the room before Dogma started upright and stood. The clones as a whole were usually much more aware of their surroundings than that.

The heartbreaking expression of distress on Dogma’s face didn’t help one bit.

“At ease,” Anakin said, not liking at all how the man slumped back against the table. It wasn’t by a huge margin, but given how uptight and by the book he’d been at the beginning of the Umbara campaign, this difference was worlds away from what Anakin had last seen. “Sit down,” he ordered, making sure to keep his voice gentle.

Dogma didn’t seem to notice as he near collapsed back down. “Sir.”

Anakin had to hold back a wince as he took the seat across from Dogma. Hearing someone’s voice so broken and hollow was never good. “How are you doing?”

Dogma had slouched back down, and was staring down at his hands slack in his lap. “Sir. I’m fine.”

“No one’s fine the first time it happens.”

Dogma stared at him in blank incomprehension, then his eyes flicked to Anakin’s eartips, which tended to poke out from his now-pale hair. “Oh. No, that’s not – I’m fine.”

No, Dogma was not fine. Anakin didn’t need the Force to see that. He took a section from Obi-Wan’s repertoire, raising a brow and giving Dogma a long, politely incredulous look. “Right.”

Within moments, Dogma crumpled, which wasn’t the result Anakin had expected.  Dogma curled forward, the tiny hunch still a huge tell. “General…” His voice wasn’t much more than a whisper. “I don’t know what to do.” Dogma’s hands clenched into fists. “I can– There’s– Youkai are bad enough, but– _Krell_. Did I do the right thing, backing him? Was it wrong to go against Captain Rex? Should– Should I have… _mutinied_ along with everyone else?”

Dogma finally met his eyes, expression distraught in a way Anakin wasn’t used to seeing on any clone. “Sir, every single thing I’ve learned on Kamino tells me I’ve been a bad clone, a Bad Soldier, no matter _what_ I decide!” He looked away.  “I’m not part of the 501st anymore. I _can’t_ be. I– I was the one ordering the firing squad, ordering it to fire and I would have executed ARC Fives and Major Jesse and– ” He breathed in slow and ragged, shaking. “There is no possible way Captain Rex could ever forgive that. At best I’ll be transferred, at worst I’ll be sent back to Kamino.” His face crumpled further. “Defective,” he whispered. “I thought all I had to do was know the rules – those were correct, right? I mean, that’s why they’re rules. I thought they were _all_ correct.”

Anakin tried not to sigh as the torrent of words finally stopped. “Dogma, you know there are a lot of planets and a lot of species in the Republic, right?” Dogma stared blankly for a moment, then gave a jerky nod.  “They all have rules – laws – and some of them contradict laws from other planets, or even some of their own laws.”

Dogma shifted in his seat, still distraught. “I…”

“It’s a large galaxy. Sometimes rules that are right for one situation aren’t right for another. Sometimes rules change.” Anakin had, in fact, paid _some_ attention in class, and to Obi-Wan. Not that he’d ever tell Obi-Wan that.

“Rules…change? But– but then how do you know–?”

That, of course, was always the problem. Anakin sighed. “Knowing the rules helps. Knowing the history behind them helps more.” He tried to grin, knowing the humor was tinted with a lot of weariness. “Then just do your best and hope your friends have good advice.”

 

* * *

 

The door slid open, admitting Obi-Wan into the building the 501st was using as a command center. There weren’t many clones around, only two standing guard at the entrance, and one or two scattered through the building itself.  It was night, the battle was over – was won – and the GAR was at low ebb. It didn’t feel like a victory though.  The men weren’t celebrating in their barracks, and there wasn’t the thrum of life and joy in the Force.

Umbara had taken a heavy toll on Anakin’s troops, mentally and physically. The 212th wasn’t much better off. They might not have had to kill a Jedi, but the farce of a battle orchestrated by Krell, which had pitted brother against brother, had left them all subdued.

Obi-Wan entered the central control room, moving silently, in tune with the hush that lay over the area. He found Captain Rex leaning on the command table, one hand over the silver cuffs that now banded his right ear. Obi-Wan cleared his throat.

Rex startled to attention, his hand whipping away from the limiter as if he’d been caught doing something wrong.  “General!”

“Captain. I’m looking for Anakin,” Obi-Wan explained. “Do you know where he might be?”

“No, sir.” Rex relaxed out of his stiff posture a bit when whatever reprimand he was expecting didn’t materialize. “I know he went to talk to the men, but I don’t know his location. I could try to com him?”

“That won’t be necessary.  Anakin’s turned his com off. Again.”

Rex almost smiled. “He does that, sir.”

“Well, at least I know where he’s not,” Obi-Wan nodded to Rex. “Thank you.”

“Sir?” Rex asked nervously as Obi-Wan turned to leave.

“Yes?”

“I- How’s Cody doing?”

“As well as can be expected,” Obi-Wan said, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

“No reason. Sorry to bother you, sir.”

“It’s not a bother. Has Cody said something to you?”

“No, sir.” Rex glanced away, then looked back and squared his shoulders. “It’s just…this battle was hard on everyone.  I know Cody doesn’t have enough limiters for the 212th right now, and since we’ll be getting some, I though…”

“Limiters?” Obi-Wan parroted.

Rex went blank-faced. Silence filled the room, thick and awkward.  “I should go,” Rex said, crisp and professional. “Excuse me, General.”

Obi-Wan stood and watched Rex leave, unable to articulate his thoughts, not even sure he wanted Rex to stay.

Limiters. _Youkai_.

There were youkai in the 212th.  Of course there were. The stresses of war were more than enough to wake any latent youkai heritage. The shock shouldn’t be that the clones could be pushed over that precipice, but that any of them at all were still human.

Obi-Wan had never thought about it.  He clenched his hand tightly, pressing his thumb hard against the ring that kept his youkai nature in check.  He’d never thought about it, because it was easy not to.  Youkai weren’t spoken of, weren’t thought about if you could avoid it. Life would be simpler, easier, if there were no youkai; no monsters under the bed, no hunters in the deep dark forests, no sharp-toothed smiles in the shadows. Obi-Wan was a monster, and he accepted that, even if Anakin seemed bound and determined to ignore it.  But Anakin didn’t know what Obi-Wan had done.

Obi-Wan’s mind shied away from the events of that time, his hands shaking with adrenaline as he lowered himself into an empty chair.  Acknowledging even the memory of it was hard.

Why hadn’t Cody talked to him about it? They’d been working together for years, and Obi-Wan could count on one hand the number of times Cody had brought up the subject of youkai. It had never been in connection with the 212th.  Did he think Obi-Wan was afraid? Did he think Obi-Wan would punish him for it? Perhaps he thought that Obi-Wan wouldn’t want youkai troops.  Obi-Wan closed his eyes and groaned.  Given how much Obi-Wan yelled at Anakin for running around without his limiter during battles, that might be exactly what Cody thought.

A mess of emotions welled up in Obi-Wan, and he struggled to sort through them. Frustration and anger were there, but so was shame, and hurt. Love, too.  Love, for his troops, for Anakin, for Ahsoka – his precious people, whom he would die for in a heartbeat.  Shame, at himself.  Frustration and anger at how unfair the galaxy was, how unfair _people_ were. Hurt, that Cody could think so little of him.  He didn’t yell at Anakin because he was disgusted by his former padawan, but because he knew how ugly things could become when people were faced with an unapologetic youkai. He didn’t think Anakin was a monster, any more than he thought the manifested youkai in the 501 st or, yes, the 212th were monsters.  He certainly didn’t blame any of the clones for being pushed beyond what any sane person should endure.

Without meaning to, Obi-Wan found himself in a light meditative trance, his emotions calming as he worked through them.  His thoughts turned to his troops.  He would need to speak with Cody.

Cody wasn’t at the 212th’s command center, but Obi-Wan tracked him down to the nearly deserted cafeteria, where he was nursing a late-night cup of caf.  

“Cody,” Obi-Wan greeted, sitting down on the bench next to his Commander.

“General. Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?”

“I could ask the same of you,” Obi-Wan teased, then grew serious. “Actually, there’s something I need to speak to you about.”

“Sir?” Cody straightened up a bit.

“I’m afraid I’ve been guilty of a grave oversight.”

“Oversight?” Cody frowned.

“It’s been brought to my attention that…well. That I have youkai under my command.”

Cody’s eyes widened in alarm and he sat ramrod straight. “Sir-!”

“It’s all right,” Obi-Wan said, raising a placating hand. Force, Cody really had thought-  “I’m not going to harm them, or send them away. They are part of the 212th, and worth no less than any of their brothers.”

“Oh,” Cody said after a pause, obviously searching for a response. “I mean. Thank you, General.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No thanks needed. I’m sorry if I gave the impression of being…less than approachable, about this matter.”

“Some Generals are,” Cody said, as if that were any excuse. “Sir,” he continued, a note of caution in his voice, “if I may ask, if you don’t have any objections to youkai, why do you always yell at General Skywalker about…”

“Running around with his limiter off?”

“Well, yes.”

“Hmm. What do you know about Anakin?”

“That he is one of the best Generals in the GAR, if a little unorthodox.”

“Exactly,” Obi-Wan said wryly.  “He is a high-profile Jedi, but he’s constantly at odds with the Council. Flaunting his youkai nature is going to get him into serious trouble one day.”

“But you have no problem with Skywalker himself?” Cody asked, frowning.

“No, I don’t.”

“And you don’t have any problem with us clones being youkai.”

“That’s correct.”

“Then…I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” Obi-Wan aksed.

“Whenever I brought up the topic, it seemed like you, ah, disliked youkai.”

Oh. Cody had been strategically testing the waters, gauging Obi-Wan’s tolerance for youkai.  Obi-Wan had nobody to blame for Cody’s reticence but himself.

“I don’t…” Obi-Wan tried to order his thoughts.  It wasn’t logical, but here on this dark world, in the aftermath of a tragedy and sitting alone with Cody in a deserted cafeteria, Obi-Wan had the sudden urge to speak.  “I don’t hate youkai, but I did…a terrible thing, when I was younger, and being youkai,” he pressed his thumb against his ring, “was a large part of that.”

“We all make mistakes-“

“Not like this,” Obi-Wan cut Cody off, voice harsh. “This was- “ he took a deep breath. “It happened when I was thirteen,” he started, casting his mind back to that first tumultuous year as Qui-Gon’s padawan.

Obi-Wan had been at the top of his classes in piloting, lightsaber skills, and the more academic subjects. He spoke Twi’leki fluently, understood Huttese and Rodian.  He should have been the star of his class.

He’d known why he wasn’t. A simple metal bracelet around his wrist, plain and inconspicuous, but everyone knew it was there, Obi-Wan most of all.  He’d tried so hard, but it was only through more luck than he had any right to have, as well as Qui-Gon’s forbearance, that Obi-Wan had become a padawan. Then had come the Temple bombings, and Xanatos’ crazy scheme to end the Jedi Order.  

Xanatos. Qui-Gon’s first padawan, and a youkai.  Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had thwarted Xanatos’ plans and chased him to Telos IV, where they’d had to find him all over again.  Despite the obstacles Xanatos had laid in their way, they’d tracked him down, finally cornering him.

Xanatos had taunted them, faced off against them and held them at bay.  Flaunting his youkai form, he’d beaten Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan back, his improved speed and strength telling against the two Jedi.  "Look at you,” he’d said to Obi-Wan. “All that potential, and you keep holding yourself back. And for _what_? The Jedi? They hate us, they _fear_ us, and they are _right_ to do so!”

Obi-Wan could admit that he’d been tempted. He’d be faster, stronger. But he was a Jedi, and the Jedi didn’t seek the easy path to power. He’d stayed his hand, and the bracelet had remained on his wrist.

Then Xanatos had gotten ahold of Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan stopped talking for a moment.  He breathed out his anxiety and calmed his mind, remembering as clearly as he could what came next.

Xanatos had taunted the young Obi-Wan, called him weak and useless, a traitor to his heritage. There had been more words, but Obi-Wan had ignored them, trying simply to get away.

Obi-Wan hadn’t noticed which wrist Xanatos’ hand was on until his limiter clicked open.  Obi-Wan had cried out and crumpled to the ground, the change slamming into him without warning and against his will.

He remembered Xanatos’ laughter, and the man calling him weak one more time, but then there had been only pain.  In all his years at the temple, Obi-Wan had never removed his limiter. Technically he hadn’t removed it this time.  He had no experience with his youkai form or the instincts and urges that came with it.

No doubt Xanatos had expected Obi-Wan’s transformation to be a normal one, but to Obi-Wan’s shame, his youkai form was more monstrous than most.

He’d fought the transformation, but that had only made it hurt worse.  Half-mad from pain and anger, Obi-Wan had wobbled to his feet, his senses fixed on Xanatos. He remembered only snatches after that.

Evading the blow of a lightsaber. Claws catching cloth and flesh, and tearing through both as if they were mist.

The scent of blood, hot and metallic. The feel of Xanatos’ throat collapsing between his jaws. The surge of _victory_ when he’d dropped the mutilated corpse onto the dusty earth.

Most horribly, the urge to feed.

Qui-Gon’s shocked voice calling his name had brought him back to himself.  That’s when it had all come crashing in. What he was. What he’d done. How immensely right Mace Windu had been to declare him unfit to be a Jedi.

He’d run.  Leaving an exhausted Qui-Gon behind, Obi-Wan had fled into the polluted wilderness.  

It had taken Qui-Gon two days to track him down.  Obi-Wan had been starving and thirsty, unable to find clean water and unwilling to venture close to civilization for food. He’d still had Xanatos’ dried blood on him, a faint, powdery residue gone dark and dry. He remembered huddling on the ground, his clawed wings drawn up about him, to hide himself. They hadn’t done a very good job; even at that age, Obi-Wan’s youkai form had been as tall as Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon’s gentle, quiet words had finally penetrated Obi-Wan’s haze of panic.  He’d flinched at the first touch on his wings, but he’d allowed Qui-Gon to draw them back, to wipe away the last smudges of rusty red with a wet cloth. Qui-Gon had offered him a canteen with water.  Realizing that Qui-Gon wasn’t there to kill him, or to shout at him, Obi-Wan had collapsed forward into the older man’s arms.  He hadn’t cried, because his monstrous form had no eyes, but he remembered muffling his keening whines into rough-spun tunics

After some time, and still talking softly, Qui-Gon had gotten Obi-Wan up and into a speeder. Obi-Wan remembered Qui-Gon saying that he’d get Obi-Wan a new limiter, that it was okay.

For years, if he thought of it at all, he’d remembered Qui-Gon’s quiet reassurance that they’d get him a limiter with the overlay of revulsion and shame that he himself had been feeling.

He could see, now, that Qui-Gon hadn’t been disgusted. Worried for Obi-Wan, yes, but not repelled by or ashamed of him.

Thinking on it more clearly, Obi-Wan also remembered the gentle attempt at humour in Qui-Gon’s voice later that day, while his Master had figured out which pair of arms would still exist after the ring-shaped limiter was on.  At the time, Obi-Wan hadn’t been in any state to do more than breathe.

When they’d returned to Coruscant, Qui-Gon had stood before the Council and told a pack of bald-faced lies about Xanatos jumping into the pool of acid to spite Qui-Gon, and left out all mention of the incident with Obi-Wan.

Swallowing back tears and missing his Master with an old, empty ache all over again, Obi-Wan breathed deep, finding his center.

He’d kept the re-telling to the relevant facts, but his own realizations while doing so made him glad that he’d talked about it, however painful it had been.  Obi-Wan looked at Cody, who was frowning off at the distance, absorbing the story.  Obi-Wan just hoped he hadn’t lost his Commander’s respect.

Cody tapped a finger slowly against the mug of caff a few times, then looked over and met Obi-Wan’s eyes. “With all due respect, General, and forgive me for saying this, but…you’re an idiot.”

“I beg your pardon?” Obi-Wan asked, caught flatfooted. _That_ hadn’t been one of the responses he’d anticipated.

“What happened to you is exactly what happened to us – your youkai aspect was brought into play without premeditation on your part, and you killed in self-defense.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “I’m a Jedi. I can’t afford to lose control like that.”

“It sounds like it was your first time, and in a life-or-death situation. Control comes with time.  If you’d been a shiny under my command, I would have put you up for a commendation.”

“But…”

“Sir. You do realize that if we clones don’t know two dozen ways to kill an enemy combatant by the time we’re four, we’re slated for janitorial services?” Cody gave a small shrug. “That’s not the only checkpoint where a brother could wash out, just the one off the top of my head. I’m not saying you’re not possibly the most dangerous man in the building – with or without your limiter – but you’re not the only one. Not by a long shot.”

In a very rare turn of events, Obi-Wan had no idea what to say. He’d come here to reassure Cody about Obi-Wan’s support, and instead here Cody was, doing that exact thing for his General.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat to buy time. “I’ll keep that in mind, Cody.”

“I’m glad to hear that, sir.”

What a strange day this had turned out to be.


End file.
